


Choosing You

by mcal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, F/M, Hermione is the same age as the Marauders, Moony makes me way too happy, Short Story, Two-way journal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-10 02:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19489333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcal/pseuds/mcal
Summary: Complete Harry Potter AU. Hermione is the same age as the Marauders and is sub-letting Remus' room while Remus is on an assignment in Paris. She finds a notebook of handwritten poems, but finds no signature or means of identifying the author. Moony is homesick for his pack, and Remus has been journaling in a notebook he took from the library before leaving for Paris.Fate intervenes, and yet, the choice is still theirs...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/gifts).



> I asked the lovely Frumpologist to give me a prompt and a pairing of her choice. She requested a two-way journal and gave me the choice between two pairings, and I picked Remione. I panicked for a little bit, but then ended up having fun with it. And then ended up having a LOT of fun with it. 
> 
> Alpha love to LadyKenz347 and niffizzle. Beta gratitude to CourtingInsanity. Thank you so much ladies! Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

"So then, Hermione Granger…?"

"... Yes?"

Hazel eyes lifted from parchment on the table in front of the wizard. "Any relation at all to the Dagworth-Grangers?"

Hermione blinked across the table an incredulous moment before rising swiftly, her chair scraping over the floor. "I've heard all I need to hear, Mr. Potter, thank you for your time."

"Wait—"

" _Ha!_ That's what you get for trying to meddle, Prongs!"

"Shut it, Padfoot—Miss Granger, _wait!_ "

Hermione was halfway to the Floo already, but there was something about the desperation in this Mr. Potter's voice that compelled her to pause. She squelched a sigh, wavering between automatically apologising for her hasty behaviour or darting through the fireplace right now…

"Miss Granger," the raven-haired, bespectacled wizard said, now caught up to her, "I'm not entirely certain what I said, but I meant no offense. It's just that my parents know absolutely _everyone_ and you seem about our age, so I just find it odd that if you are any relation to a family I should know that I can't recall ever meeting you."

His tone _felt_ sincere, Hermione had to at least admit that. And it seemed a simple enough explanation…

_Damn_.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for, Mr. Potter." Hermione offered a tight smile. "The fault is mine, and I'm sorry for overreacting."

"Right… that's fine." He gestured back to the kitchen. "Perhaps we could continue…?"

She allowed herself to turn and follow him back to the kitchen. "You mean I haven't buggered this up completely?"

"I think that's an excellent point, Prongs," the second wizard interjected, grey eyes flashing as he gesticulated wildly. "She's obviously not stable. No telling what else could set her off; she very well may decide to murder me in my sleep, and then—"

Hermione's mouth opened in defense, but the first wizard had already flicked his wand in the direction of the second, effectively silencing a now irate looking Sirius Black while slipping back into his chair and taking up his quill.

"Please ignore him, Miss Granger, and we'll get back to the interview."

An awkward silence fell over the room as Hermione wavered by the chair. "Wasn't the advertisement to sublet a room in _Mr. Black's_ flat?"

The wizard in question continued his angry, yet silent, tantrum while the sitting wizard nodded. "That's correct."

Two blinks. "He doesn't seem to want a roommate."

"No, he doesn't," Mr. Potter agreed, "but have a seat and I'll happily explain the situation you'll be walking into if you agree to this."

"All right." Hermione slid back into her seat, if for no other reason than for some answers. This was turning out to be the most peculiar afternoon of her life, which she felt was saying something…

"Our friend Remus, Sirius' original roommate, has been loaned out to the French Ministry for extensive clerical work and his assignment will continue for another six months." The wizard dropped his quill into the inkwell and clasped his hands together over the table. "Sirius is shite at taking care of himself, and my wife took pity on this louse—" he jerked his head in the direction of his pouting friend "—and has been helping out with a few things, _out of the goodness of her own heart."_ He paused as if trying to make a point to Sirius Black, who flipped him off as he took up pacing. "However, Lily and I recently had a baby—"

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you." Mr. Potter was beaming now. "But it's understandably more challenging to make it over here and check-in on Sirius now, and he always manages to come by for food just as Lily and Harry have fallen asleep. Hence the advertisement in the paper for someone to sublet the available room."

Hermione frowned, lips folding inward. "I've already one job with the Ministry, Mr. Potter, I don't need a second as a live-in maid."

Mr. Potter's eyes blew wide. "That's not it at all—"

_Whack!_

" _Ow!"_

Hermione sank back into her chair in disbelief at the scene unfolding before her eyes; Sirius Black had effectively slapped his friend across the back of the head, only for his friend to leap up and retaliate with loud arguments at a silenced wizard, while said silenced wizard gestured and made voiceless exaggerated mouthings back.

None of it made any sense, and frankly, it would have been one of the more humorous things Hermione had ever experienced, if not for the fact that she was so utterly confused, and thinking this _might_ be the perfect time to slip out and escape the insanity…

" _James Potter!"_

Her plot was single-handedly foiled when a witch with flaming red hair in a messy braid and blazing green eyes marching into the kitchen. Soot and smoke tumbled in angry curls as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Harry's been crying for half-an-hour solid, and you were supposed to be home ages ago so as to be available to do that thing you do with your antlers to keep him from crying, and why are you _here_ and not at home?!"

James Potter was now giving a sheepish rub to the back of his neck while his companion opened his mouth, resuming his voiceless speech with wild gestures…

The newcomer to the room groaned loudly. "Godric, I haven't had enough sleep for this…" She lifted her wand and cancelled out the previous silencing spell. "Will someone please explain to me as concisely as possible what in the name of Merlin is happening here?"

"I've moved back to London from France to work for the Ministry," Hermione voiced, three sets of eyes turning to her as she continued. "There was an advertisement in _The Daily Prophet_ this morning for a flat that was offering to pay for a subletter, which I immediately answered. I received an owl in return with an address and time for an interview… And here we are."

"Your buggering husband posted the bloody advertisement without my permission, Lily!"

"Oh shush, Padfoot," the witch admonished. "James was right to do it; you hate living alone and Remus will be gone for another six months—"

" _Supposedly!"_ Sirius countered.

"No, _definitely_." Potter glared at his friend. "He's already confirmed this idea was fine, even going so far as to offer to chip in with a portion of this stipend."

"Excuse me." Hermione floated a hand up, wiggling her fingers as if she were once again a student with a question. "I'm still a bit confused as to what exactly you're looking for in this arrangement."

"Simply put, a dog-sitter, if you will, Miss Granger—"

"Hermione…"

"Yes, thank y—"

"Oh!" Lily's eyes sparkled in sudden interest. "Are you related to Hector Dagworth-Grang—"

" _Don't!"_ Potter and Black shouted in unison, leaving Hermione with nothing else to do but allow her face to fall into her hands as she laughed.

She could feel all three sets of eyes burning into her curls as she laughed and laughed, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She finally managed to swipe at her damp cheeks as she looked back up, meeting the witch's expectant gaze first. "To my knowledge, I'm not, Mrs. Potter—"

"Just 'Lily', if you would."

Hermione nodded. "Lily, thank you. I'm Hermione Granger, a muggle-born witch who it seems missed out on a great deal of confusing excitement by going to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts."

"What—you _chose_ to attend a school other than Hogwarts?"

"Yes." Hermione looked back to the wizards, both looking equally offended, and she didn't know their voices well enough to determine who'd asked her the question. "You see, some supercilious prejudiced wizard delivered my Hogwarts admission letter, interrupting himself many times to ask me and my parents that precise question several times, in addition to blathering on and on of the glories of magic, Hogwarts, potions, Mr. Dagworth-Granger, and all the students he'd known to go on to do great and noble things."

"Oh my Merlin." Lily groaned while the wizards threw back their heads and laughed, leaning into each other as they did, which lead to Hermione's understanding that their argument had ended.

The laughter continued until Hermione began to feel a twinge of discomfort. "Look," she cleared her throat, "I'm happy to do a few things about the flat; it doesn't seem that large." She drummed her fingers over the table, glancing around the kitchen. "I'm a terrible cook, but I can pick up an extra order of take-out, and make sure the kitchen is stocked with groceries…"

"That's really all I'd intended with the advert, Hermione," Potter supplied, coming to himself at last, walking up to his wife. "Sirius and I have lunch together on Wednesdays and Fridays, so if you have take-out or something Tuesdays and Thursdays for the next five or six months, or have the urge to cook either of those nights, perhaps make an extra serving to share…"

"I'm not helpless," the flat owner barked… and it was the funniest thing, but it truly sounded like an actual bark…

Lily shot him a look. "Which makes it worse because that implies that you simply enjoy a lazy and haphazard existence." Sirius looked as though he wanted to protest, but Lily lifted a silencing finger. "No time for arguments or lengthy explanations, because Harry's granny will need to get back to what she was doing before I barged over here soon. It's fine that you're no good at living alone Sirius; this is not a lecture or call for you to change." She moved to take the wizard's hands in hers, swinging them side to side. "You always had a brother and house-elves to keep you company and clean. Then there was boarding school where we were always fed and cleaned up after, and then sharing the flat. It's fine, Padfoot."

The witch combed a hand through the wizards shoulder-length, tousled locks before scratching behind his ear, which Hermione found odd, especially as her husband appeared amused instead of upset and Sirius calmed instantly.

"We can give this a trial month if you'd prefer," Hermione offered, tucking several curls behind an ear. "The offer was only for six months to begin with and we can take things month-by-month. I still have my room at my parent's house if your roommate gets back early or if you find you don't like the food I pick up…" She shrugged. "I understood this wouldn't be a forever arrangement when I answered the advertisement, but this was the closest to work and I can't afford my own place just yet."

Sirius loosed a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine…" he muttered, gesturing at his friends. "But I'm not happy with either of you for comparing this arrangement to 'dog sitting'."

James smirked while Lily laughed, moving to join her husband. "Sulk all you need, Padfoot. Don't forget to owl before you'd like to come over next…" The couple were almost to the fireplace before Lily tossed over her shoulder: "And remember that if I _don't_ answer, it means I'm asleep!"

The Potters made hasty exits in a blaze of emerald flames and dark smoke, leaving Hermione and Sirius to glance between the table, the cabinets and each other in silence… Well, mostly silence. Sirius still appeared to be growling under his breath…

What brilliant luck she managed to have.

* * *

As it turned out, Hermione lucked out _entirely_ with this situation. First, there was the fact her flat mate kept the oddest hours and she rarely saw him outside of the Tuesday and Thursday dinners she agreed upon this first week.

(She was also thankful Sirius was not a picky eater, and happily ate from whatever variety she picked up.)

Second was that while there was no denying Sirius was messy, she'd learned several sufficient cleaning spells from her roommates as school and it had always been second nature to clean as she went.

Third was that while this appeared to be a modest enough flat, the library…

Oh, the _library._

It was Hermione's first week in the flat, and between moving in, work, and take-out arrangements, she'd yet to venture this far into the flat. But now, standing in such an immaculate temple to bibliography and knowledge, she wondered how and why she'd not felt the calling of this room earlier in the week… And why she simply couldn't move to this room once the mysterious Remus moved back…

"You're a reader, then, Granger?"

Sirius had a tendency to actually sound as though he were barking at times, but that did nothing to yank her admiring gaze away.

"It's magnificent," she breathed, drawing nearer to a shelf, eyes tracing various titles and books. "I apologise, I didn't think you much of a reader, Sirius."

"I'm not." He snorted and it was then Hermione tossed a look over her shoulder. "These are mostly Remus'. He utilised shrinking and storage charms while at Hogwarts for most of these. I inherited a meagre collection or two from my uncle when I purchased this flat, and used the remainder of the empty space to bribe Remus to room with me."

Hermione chuckled, delicately skimming over the gold lettering of a magical tome's spine. "I'm surprised he wasn't too keen on it. From what I heard in the interview, you lot seem a tight friend group."

Sirius hummed, and she imagined his shoulders shrugging, but, again, she couldn't be bothered to look away. They were so splendidly _organised_ , and she just found a second edition Charms book written by _the_ Master Gregory himself… "Remus worries he'll be too much of a burden," Sirius began, "and only refused for the sake of some ridiculous sense of pride, but I was able to convince him I couldn't do without, since Peter had already abandoned us and went to work in some horrible place in America."

"Sounds a reasonable sort to me." Hermione waltzed, fucking _waltzed_ , over to a section that now appeared to be dedicated entirely to Muggle books of all genres. Countless classics penned by men and women, horror, Shakespeare, modern, a bit of science fiction, short stories… even poetry. "If I wanted to read anything while he was away, should I write him for permission?"

"Unnecessary. You have that same swotty glow about you, and he marks up his books with notes and underscores all the time. He reminds Lily to do the same when she borrows a book, so I can't imagine he'd complain for a few added secret opinions by my one-day former flatmate."

"All right." She nodded, ignoring the hint at the temporary nature of this arrangement as she came to the desk and skimmed titles stacked there. The wizard had just admitted to not being a reader himself, and clearly didn't take matters as important as borrowing a book as seriously as his flatmate might. She decided to take it upon herself to add a separate correspondence of her own the next time Sirius owl'd a letter to France.

And that was that, as they say. She paid him no more mind, because there was now a curiously unmarked leather book amidst one of the stacks. She pulled it out, deciding to study it more in her room later this evening.

* * *

Remus missed Britain. _Godric_ , he missed home.

France smelled of bread, chocolate, flowers, wine, and cheese.

All. The. Sodding. Time.

It was early February and how the hell his wolf, Moony, could detect flowers preparing to bloom and burst in a few months in the middle of Muggle Paris was beyond him… And why did members of the records offices insist on filling room after room with the insufferably fragrant plants?

His clothing absorbed the infuriating scents, which drove Moony absolutely bonkers. His wolf preferred earthy scents, like rain, but not this sweet floral rain of Paris. No. He liked the rain when it mingled with the earth, and everything smelled rich and deep.

Even the bloody library at the French Ministry stank of fresh flowers, all but drowning out the preferred smells of leather, ink, and parchment. And it was useless wishing for any solace or escape in tea—the only damn brew available was always some green-jasmine hybrid. He was reduced to begging Lily to send him a proper tin of English Breakfast or Earl Grey to survive the days.

Months, really. Because all this nonsensical hullabaloo back sorting and organising or transactions, intersections, and interfacing between the French and British Ministry had already taken three months, and now, given the amount of clerical error with both parties, he felt certain it would take at least six months more to sort through all this.

He hoped less. Merlin, he _really_ hoped less.

He sodding missed London, and Lily's steak and kidney pies... And her beef Wellington... _And_ ham and potatoes. He missed James's laugh, and seeing his mate's face beam brighter than the sun when he talked about his wife and new child.

Merlin, Harry was already six months old; he'd grown so much based on the pictures James and Lily sent. He missed seeing that face break out into a toothless grin, and hated he missed seeing all the weekly changes happening in Harry's life.

Then there was Sirius, his brother in every way but blood. True, their friend had gone to live with James once his mother had blasted him off the family tree for befriending Muggleborns and a werewolf, but Moony had claimed Padfoot as the brother he'd never had from the first moon they'd all spent together, and such a bond bled into their regular lives as well, making Remus all the more forgiving (and even almost _fond)_ of his friend's eccentric and exaggerated ways.

Three months away from everyone, he found he missed being dragged out for pub night with Sirius. He missed cleaning up after his helpless louse of a mate. And the way he would spend the new evenings leading up to the full moon as Padfoot, following him around the house, nudging his hand in silent solidarity.

A resounding 'snap' and 'growl' in his mind yanked him back to the paperwork at present. Remus blinked at blur of ink and letters spilling together, attempting to focus and force the nonsensical mess before him into words and names.

"Shut it, will you, old boy?" he muttered, snatching at a parchment, while making note of a few names and dates on his own parchment. "Less than half-an-hour to get through and we'll be home for the day, all right?"

Moony snarled in response, stomping in brooding circles around the fringes of his mind.

Remus loosed a heavy sigh, jotting down a few more notes from the ministry document before resting his quill in the inkpot to rub the back of his neck. Moony had been especially been on edge for the last two days, and he couldn't figure out why. He knew Moony missed his pack but this was different. Vastly different from anything he'd ever felt before.

There'd been an unexplained change in his wolf's brooding since late last year, and all of Remus' efforts to soothe the wolf had been for naught. Even James and Sirius coming to spend the full moon with him in an abandoned (and now heavily warded) cottage in the French countryside hadn't satisfied, and Remus was quite at a loss.

Sighing again, he reached into his leather bag, pulling out a simple leather bound notebook he'd taken from Sirius' library before leaving. Journalling had been something he'd picked up back at Hogwarts, and though it never precisely resolved any problems, the simple act of putting thoughts down seemed to help sort through it all. Give name and recognition to the swirly void of his conflicting heart.

He muttered an alarm spell over his wand, permitting himself exactly seven minutes of free-form writing in this claimed journal. Sirius would never have used it—he probably had no idea the notebook existed. It was in one of the meagre stacks his uncle had left him that Remus had glanced through before filling the library to the brim with his collection of books.

Remus wrote. And wrote. And _wrote_. He refused to pause to ponder over spelling or phrasing. Moony was trying to talk, or maybe it was his own heart, too. He didn't know anymore. He couldn't remember what thinking or feeling was like without Moony anymore...

Perhaps it was time to accept the fact he no longer knew where the Moony ended and Remus began… For as much as he wanted to compartmentalise, and fought to tell himself Moony was his own identity contained within the man… Well, Remus wasn't entirely certain how much he believed that to be true anymore.

His alarm chimed and Remus finished his writings with another two lines, returning the quill to the inkpot, stretching in his chair before blinking back down at the notebook. Something in his heart clenched as he studied his stream of consciousness scribbles.

Amature and far from decent, but the theme of loneliness screamed up at him from every letter, stroke, and punctuation mark. A loneliness deeper than mere homesickness. It opened his eyes to a chasm within his chest; a longing for a love and partner he'd never dared to dream of… Never dared to consider, because he'd never allowed it to be an option…

But Moony whimpered in his mind, releasing a mournful howl as Remus glanced over the words again… Without knowing what else to do, Remus closed the book and set it back in his back, pulling out Sirius' latest letter, which had included a small ending missive from Sirius' new flatmate. She'd added on to the end of the letter to assure him the room would remain in tip-top shape, and she'd taken photographs so as to have everything back in its proper place when he was ready to come home.

That level of care and dedication made him chuckle, in addition to share a secret smile with himself. And then, there was a whiff of something new about the letter, possibly from the girl, _Hermione,_ that soothed Moony.

He hadn't allowed himself to muddle through what exactly yet... For now he could give in and breathe deep of the parchment, ink, and earthy rain… He just needed to get through the rest of this stack, and then he would be free to leave and conjure all the words Moony needed to work through his instincts.

* * *

The first book Hermione cracked open that night was the untitled and otherwise unmarked leather-bound book she'd found. It seemed ordinary enough, but upon opening it, she found page after page filled with handwritten poems. Not the silly stuff and nonsense of Shakespearean sonnets that became odos and repetitive after reading for too long, but heartfelt words that spoke of the moon, the night, curse of time, loneliness, fear, anxiety, and friendship.

She read half-a-dozen before deciding to go back and study them more thoroughly, dismissing the brief notion that this could be a current private journal. It must have been left to Sirius along with the rest of the books he'd mentioned…

Or it could have been a gift given to the deceased uncle ages ago by now… So, it would be a matter of history to give careful recognition to such beautiful words memorialised in this way… And besides, the author may introduce himself at some point along the way...

Conscience satisfied for now, Hermione sank deeper into her bed, pulling her quilt up around her, breathing deep of leather and parchment as she started back to the first poem, heart brimming at the night of reading ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I present to you the second chapter. Thank you all for your lovely comments, kudos, and the beautiful lurkers <3  
> Alpha thanks to the perfect LadyKenz347 and niffizzle. Beta hearts forever to CourtingInsanity. All remaining errors are my own.
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione slammed the titleless book of poems shut, certain her face resembled the very dictionary definition of 'bewildered'.

_It wasn't possible…_

She blinked down at the book, drawing a sharp breath before slipping her fingers under the pages against her bookmark…

Her jaw fell open as her eyes raced over the new words.

Nope. No mistake. This was not some hunger-driven hallucination because she'd forgotten to each breakfast and had pushed lunch until two o'clock this afternoon.

It was still there, right where she'd seen it a moment earlier: a brand-new poem.

Not one that she'd read but forgotten she'd read the night before via some sleep-induced fog, but an entirely _new_ poem. Short, dry, and pithy in its loathing of flowers—just enough to fill the last bit of space at the bottom of the page.

And the reason she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that this poem hadn't been there the night before was because she'd laughed at her own silly pun that it was almost ' _poetic'_ that her bookmark touched exactly the last line written on the page as she'd laid it in the book and closed the cover last night.

A soft but pointed edge collided with her cheek, and continued on an annoying loop until she snatched the Ministry-issued paper airplane memorandum from mid-air, loosening her grip as the paper wriggled to free itself, as if it were irritated with her, and unfolded in her open palm.

She chuckled to herself. Muggle-born she was, but point taken. She was of Magic, working in the British Ministry of Magic and therefore, a self-filling book was not outside the realm of possibilities. Perhaps the book had been spelled by the author, whomever he or she may be, to reveal a set number of poems daily until complete.

She tucked a curl behind her ear, drumming her fingers over her bookmark with the other hand. It was also not improbable that this could be the twin of some sort of communicating journaling pair—in which case she would completely _mortified_ for having invaded a stranger's privacy so...

Perhaps a small test was in order to see what she was working with. With that in mind, she plucked her quill from her crystal inkwell and focused on the most recent entry to this book.

* * *

All breathable air seized and fled Remus's lungs.

He rarely looked back over things he wrote—once written, the thought was there and out, and there was nothing more to be said about it. But he'd wanted to check and make sure he'd come to the very end of the page…

Only to find a note in the margin.

And _not_ in Lily's tidy but rushed handwriting.

Nor was it Peter's scratching scrawl. Neither was it James' illegible loops, nor Sirius's practiced (read: ingrained via hours of tutoring) calligraphy. The lettering was initially unfamiliar from memories of classmates and assignments, but through the muddled haze of the end of the day, he could see there was something familiar about it…

Squinting at the message again, he muttered a wandless " _Accio_ reading glasses," and set to studying this curious appearance.

The writing itself was minimal, nothing more than a comment on his word selection in the final sentence at the end of the page. The lettering was small, neat, precise, extremely legible and clear, regardless of the added (read: unnecessary and impractical) swirls.

Moony jumped to the forefront of his mind, wagging with unmistakable and irrepressible glee that this mystery person liked his writing. Trust the wolf to latch onto that ego-stroking detail...

"Yes, but _you_ didn't write this one, did you?" Remus countered aloud. "It has nothing to do with the moon or a love of chasing rabbits. I was simply complaining about flowers and—" Remus cut himself off, stifling a self-loathing groan. It was the end of a long day, and he was now so exhausted he was now poking arguments with the wolf… Or himself—depending on which way he wanted to look at it. And he most certainly had neither the patience nor the energy to argue any points at the moment.

He'd either snatched up some enchanted book in Sirius' uncle's collection, or this book had a twin with someone out there somewhere. And that someone had read everything.

_Everything._

There was a slight chance this was one of his pack pulling some sort of a prank… Sirius has been known to charm his handwriting in attempts at forging letters from professors to get out of exams…

With that in mind, he snatched his quill and sat down to write in the last bit of space on the page.

" _If this is some idea of a practical joke, Padfoot, I can assure you I'm not laughing."_

* * *

Hermione sputtered into her teacup, dropping the book to protect it from the subsequent spew.

A response. And an understandably irritated one at that.

She returned the teacup to its matching saucer and lifted the book closer to her eyes for a second read…

'Padfoot'.

That name struck a familiar chord. She scratched her short nails over her chin as she searched her memories…

"Merlin!" Her hand clapped over her mouth as she remembered that was Potter's strange nickname for her flatmate… Which led to the logical conclusion that this notebook had a twin, and the twin belonged to James or Lily Potter.

Shoving her tea aside, she reached for a self-inking quill, flipping the page for more room to write, determined to clear this up immediately…

But something stayed her hand before her hand could form the first word. How in the name of Merlin could she compose an adequate apology for such a grievous invasion of privacy? And, she shuddered at the thought, but Sirius had at least two _other_ friends who potentially called him by that very pet name…

She'd already erred in assuming this was a completed collection once before—no need to compound her mistake with more presumptions.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she tightened her grip around the quilt and began to write:

_Hello. This is not Sirius Black, if that's the person you were meaning to address with 'Padfoot'. I'm his flatmate, Hermione. Or rather, I'm subletting his usual flatmate's room for the time being._

_I'm terribly sorry for this. He granted me permission to read whatever was in the library and I'd no idea this was an ongoing work. I came to what I thought was the end of the book last night, but found a new poem at the end of the page when I looked again today… I made the annotation to test what sort of book this was, and your response has led me to the conclusion I've stumbled across a diary or private collection of sorts and I cannot apologise enough at the massive and atrocious invasion of privacy I've just committed._

_If this is James or Lily, I'd be happy to begin to make amends by offering to keep your son for as many date-nights out as you feel appropriate. I would also be more than willing to trade out this month's compensation for take-out and cleaning in return for this matter being forgotten and never discussed in public…_

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

There. That should be sufficient…

Hermione gnawed on her bottom lip, debating if she should… Why not? She pressed back down on the paper to add a postscript; this group seemed to have a sense of humour, after all...

_P.S. And, also, if this is Lily, please know I will be laughing at the irony of your disdain for flowers with such a name… Once I feel I've sufficiently apologised and no longer feel utterly mortified._

* * *

That's where he knew the handwriting from! Remus huffed aloud, wondering how he'd missed the obvious staring back at him.

_Hermione._

As in, the sub-letter and Sirius's new flatmate Hermione Granger—no relation at all to the potioneer Dagworth-Granger. For whatever reason, Sirius had made special note of that in his first letter on the subject of someone subletting his room.

The very same Hermione whose message he'd, for some unknown reason, read so many times he'd memorised it by now. Moony hummed at the connecting dots, settling back into a calmed state of being in Remus' mind… Which seemed… _odd_. Remus pulled out the letter once more, unfolding it, and traced his eyes over the brief, but friendly, note once more.

It _really_ was thoughtful of her, he mused to himself. When James had approached him with the idea he'd just presumed they'd find a bloke equally as messy as Sirius. Some wizard he'd never meet once Remus moved back home.

Not a considerate witch.

 _With pretty writing_ , his wolf added, to which Remus scoffed, refolding the letter, floating it to his bedside table.

"It's a witch rooming with Padfood, old boy." He shook his head, looking back to the open notebook. "You would do well to remember that and consider Sirius before you go off and get attached over something silly like handwriting."

The wolf growled a response about the witch's lingering scent on the letter, while Remus countered that it might not have been Hermione's, but the wolf was insistent, biting at Remus' thoughts…

"Fine, yes. All right. I surrender." Remus threw his hands in the air, palms up. "It's Hermione you scent and it's heavenly and she has nice handwriting." Godric, he just couldn't debate this right now… He took up his quill again, poised for just enough of a response to satisfy Moony. "But you best remember that she's _living with Sirius_ , and better not do something as foolish as growing attached to someone you've never met."

An answering growl clanged in Remus' mind, even as he chewed on his tongue. This may be a lost cause already…

_Hello, Hermione. This is neither Lily nor James, but in fact the roommate you've not met, Remus. I suppose that has potential to make this all the more awkward, but tell no one about what you've read in these pages, and I suppose we'll call this an unfortunate accident. I found what I believed to be a spare notebook in Sirius' library before leaving, and nicked it without thinking twice—so, this entire situation is my fault, if you think about it. Please accept my deepest apologies for the uncomfortable situation I've put you in._

He paused, his fingers hovering over the page. Moony barked a sharp snap, his thoughts curling into an angry snarl as Remus started to put the quill down to end his response there.

Fuck. Fine. Whatever.

He pressed the quill back to the page, surrendering to the brooding dark cloud, embracing whatever storms may come.

_At the risk of causing further embarrassment to the both of us, I would like to add that the irony would not have been lost on me had this been Lily. But, as you may know by now since you're there, as a brilliant potioneer, Lily Potter has a love for all things floral and herbaceous. She's the sole reason I made it as far as I did in potions at school._

Having completed the sentence, he returned the quill to its resting spot with a loud 'smack', hopeful that would send aresounding message to Moony. He'd been friendly enough, bordering on too familiar with someone he'd never met before, and now he'd likely never hear from the witch again, aside from a brief polite and perfunctory response…

* * *

Hermione laughed.

Not just a simple chuckle, but one of those outright, overwhelming, all-consuming laughs that washed away every last semblance of shame and worry. Coming back to herself, she read the message once again...

 _Remus_ , she mused to herself, thinking again how very solid and sensible the name sounded. It felt most appropriate considering the logical, even slightly humorous, response she'd received. It was unfortunate, but there was no need to prolong the embarrassment for either of them.

She bit down on her lower lip, her grip tight around her quill, before setting it to the page, her flingers relaxing as the words began to flow:

_I'd begin by saying this is rather awkward, but I think we've both covered that. You actually have my curiosity piqued at your history of potions; however, in the spirit of fairness, I believe you deserve to know some extremely personal and soul-bearing tidbits from me, not that you've asked. And forgive me if I've jumped to conclusions here, but I was so deeply moved by the poems, I can't imagine they were penned without a second thought or care…_

_And it may also be a great leap to say you're the original author of every poem, as it's not a genre I've explored in great detail, and most of the poetry I've been exposed to has been French poetry at that, but you made these selections for a reason with heart behind it. Which means I owe you a great many personal details by my accounts._

_For now, we'll start with this: I'm Hermione Jean Granger, and in case you think anything like your friend group, no. There's no familial connection between myself and Hector Dagworth-Granger that I'm aware of. I'm a muggle-born witch. My parents are dentists (Muggle teeth healers, if you will). I was born and raised in London until the age of eleven, at which time I began to attend magical boarding school at Beauxbatons. The truly personal secret in all of that is I was honestly happy my parents reached out, researched, and made inquiries about my schooling options outside of Hogwarts. I didn't have many friends in primary school for various reasons, and young Hermione was concerned at discovering one of her classmates who already knew her and didn't like her at this magical school, because said imaginary person would obviously make immediate, faster friends._

_But before you feel remotely sorry for me, I'll have you know I loved all my years of schooling and made wonderful friends. I miss several of them already moving back from France so recently, but that was to be expected._

_There you are. I hope this begins to make even the smallest of amends. If not that, then please accept the admiration of a bibliophile for either your lyrical and rhythmic command of composition, or your exquisite taste in authors. If the latter is the case, I'd be most grateful if you would share the name of the author with me._

* * *

"Shite." Remus swore again and again, dragging his hands through his hair, even as Moony keened and howled a triumphant howl. "Shut it, shut it. Bloody, _shut it!_ There is nothing remotely good about this situation, Moony!"

The wolf barked in disagreement.

Remus glared at the ceiling, as if he expected to see Moony's face to chastise him with a single withering stare. "It doesn't matter if she likes the writing or not! Everything is null and void because in case you've forgotten, France is still home for the next six months, which is half-a-year—"

" _Leave France."_

"Have you gone mad?" The wizard pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping back into his seat as in defeat. "I'm lucky enough the Ministry had this position available. The hours are flexible, and they include a free monthly supply of Wolfsbane on top of a reasonable salary—I'll remind you that's a very expensive and otherwise unaffordable potion!"

The wolf was barking and snarling now, complaining how said potion makes him want to sleep, and he never has as much fun with Padfoot when Remus took it...

"Yes, but _I_ am willing to make such sacrifices for the sake of less pain and fewer occurrences of waking to a mouthful of combined furry flesh patches and blood."

Moony snapped so hard Remus _felt_ a sharp pinch in his mind. He surrendered to a long sigh, massaging his temples as he again stared upward.

"Look," he tried again, keeping his voice low, "I know you're lonely. I know we've been gone longer than even summer holidays had been now, and the moon visits haven't been enough lately. I know that. But it does nobody any good to go and get attached to the first outward sign of goodness and decency in the world."

" _Pretty handwriting_ ," Moony huffed. " _Clever witch. Calm scent."_

"Regardless. You hardly know a thing about her, and I'm trying to protect you as well as my own heart in keeping things logical, realistic, rational, and practical. And all the facts point to not growing attached to a complete stranger, who could be a prejudiced loon for all you or I know. It's simple irresponsible and unwise to preen so over the smallest measure of approval from an unknown witch. That's how wars are started, my dear Moony."

His wolf remained silent for a very long time, and Remus would have thought he'd conceded his point at last, until Moony leaped up, so suddenly that Remus was forced upright in his seat, cradling his face in his hands as Moony yipped repeatedly, his mind whirring with the sound of " _Pack. Pack. Pack. Pack_."

"All right, all right, _all right!"_ Remus barked, resuming his ministrations against his temple. Moony had made himself clear enough times before for Remus to understand what he was so insistent about now. He was an alpha who valued the opinion of his pack, which meant Remus needed to somehow make discreet inquiries about Hermione.

Moony whimpered and settled into a marching pace at the mere thought of the witch's name, which Remus decided to ruminate over some other time. A time when his wolf wasn't so imposing and demanding.

Remus settled into a writing stance behind his desk, summoning parchment, and debating over whom to send the letters to. Hermione had mentioned James and Lily both by name, so while it was probable that the witches had met, and while Lily would have that feminine intuition about her… James _had_ been the one to conduct the interview. And it had been James who'd written the last few letters, talking about Harry's teething messing up Harry's sleep schedule. Which meant Lily would be a tangled mess of sleep deprivation, frayed nerves, and exhausted brain matter.

Best to leave her out of this for the time being.

To James he would write, then.

Moony stopped pacing as Remus penned and signed his brief letter. It wasn't anything too much to draw undue attention. He appeared the curious friend who was looking out for his room and flatmate, cloaking his questions with enough humour and protective language to be taken as entirely innocent enough.

' _Sirius?'_ Moony yipped, at which Remus groaned in response, conceding without a follow up argument, and set to writing

_Padfoot,_

_I beg you to recall I'm your friend and as your friend, I'm entitled to ask for a favour every once in a while. Therefore, I beg you to not go off and make this nothing which I'm about to ask you into a ridiculous something…_

_It seems I nicked a notebook from your library that has a twin I was unaware about. It also seems that all my journaling and scribbling appears in its entirety in said twin copy. Furthermore, it seems your new flatmate has happened upon the second copy, and I was wondering if you could tell me what sort of witch she is, and if I've any reason to worry over some secret theft of intellectual property, future publication, or—_

He stopped short, Moony growling his protest very loudly. Apparently the beast was more easily swayed by a few kind words and singular offering of personal information. Remus refused to be so gullible. Life had never been particularly kind to werewolves, and Moony needed to settle…

Moony huffed and snorted, bearing his teeth still.

"Compromise, then?" Remus queried, thoroughly wiped by this point, and he'd still need to walk to the public owlery to post these letters… He rested the quill over the parchment again, deciding against finishing the previous sentence, starting over instead.

_Look. Forget what I asked you before. If you and James thinks she's decent enough for rooming purposes, I'll trust that. But I've come across something with Moony that's rather infuriating. He's quite insistent he's scented your new flatmate from the letter she added a note to, and I was wondering if you've happened to be in Padfoot form around her… And if you have, would you pass along what he smelled? There's no need to take extreme measures for this if not._

_Again, this is a nothing. Please do not turn this into a something._

_Remus_

There. It was done. And he would not respond to Hermione in the notebook until either of his friends responded. Moony would just have to find a way to survive this exercise in patience.

* * *

He did not have to wait long for his responses. The Potter family owl rapped, tapped, and screeched against his window, waking Remus from a sound sleep. There was no affectionate nip to Remus' fingers as he produced a few owl treats in return—the bird outright bit his finger, which only served to have Moony take control and growl through Remus' own throat.

The majestic owl hissed and blinked twice angrily before flying off in a huffing flourish. Remus found himself needing to count backwards from ten before he was of right enough mind to not only read, but comprehend his mates responses.

Lips pressed into a tight line, he reached for the letter from James first:

_Remus,_

_If you were trying to be discreet, you shouldn't have owl'd Padfoot and I at the same time, especially considering what day of the week it is, and how he'd be at the house to play with Harry tonight. To get right to the point: Hermione's brilliant, beautiful, and is apparently immune to Sirius' self-proclaimed charms. Lily likes her, too. I'll defer to Padfoot for the other answers you may seek._

_James_

The audible groan was entirely involuntary and necessary as Remus reached for the second letter and Moony yipped and pranced about in a puffed up sort of way.

_Moony,_

_Hermione smells like mud, dirt, wet grass, and all other things I find off-putting for a female. I also detected a strong undertone of that blend of Earl Grey I know you like so much. In case the wizard you unfortunately share residence with is worried, Padfoot did nothing out of the ordinary. I simply took the liberty of sniffing about the outside of your bedroom door when one morning after she'd gone to work. To be precise, it was the morning after I found her gawking at the library fully stocked with Remus's books. Your wizard should trust your instincts more, Moony. From what I can see, your mate seems lovely on all accounts, but I'll keep a sharp eye out to keep Remus happy._

_Cheers,_

_Padfoot_

The letter fluttered to the quilt as Remus's hand went completely slack.

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have no chill. And because CourtingInsanity is the most amazing beta ever. And because it's a gift for Frumpologist and I decided to let you binge read :)  
> Alpha love and thanks to LadyKenz347. Again, this story would not have made it this far without her <3  
> All remaining errors are my own. 
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione cast a look she was ashamed to admit was more mournful than anything else in the general direction of her work bag for what must have been the fiftieth time today. Or hundredth. Semantics hardly mattered at this point.

No answer the rest of yesterday evening.

Nothing new this morning.

And that blank space from under her more personal and vulnerable message offered out of a spirit of goodwill and fairness taunted her still all throughout lunch…

It would do her no good to check _now_ , at only half past two in the afternoon.

She forced her eyes back on the meaningless and redundant document before her. Really, what _had_ she been thinking would happen? Was she really so desperate to find a kindred spirit, to find _belonging_ , that she readily poured out such a seemingly innocent fact, but one that went deeper and said more about her than any one truth in her life?

She scoffed aloud, moving swiftly across the form. Pathetic if so. And she deserved to not receive and answer.

It's not like she didn't still have friends; they were just all still in France, married, and having children. And it's not like she hadn't ever dated. She had, but her experiences had been few and far between, and always lacking in that deeper connection her soul craved. That special spark she'd found between her parents.

Curse the example of unending love and devotion she'd received from her parents and the safe, happy, and well-adjusted home they'd created. Her heart would never be satisfied with someone who wanted anything less.

The poems in the notebook had spoken directly to her. As if they were a cry or a plea. To be heard, to be seen. To be _known_...

Whether Remus had written them himself or chosen these poems from someone else to commit to memory and reference, she wasn't certain of yet. _Yet_. She had her suspicions it was the former, and it was because of that she'd answered the call of the poems to be known, too.

To be seen as the still vulnerable, uncertain, and insecure eleven-year-old girl she still felt she was more often than not.

She had obviously failed and offended this stranger with her blunt honesty and was determined to make it through another half-an-hour without peeking at the book.

Or maybe fifteen minutes…

* * *

_Dear Miss Granger—or may I call you Hermione? I'm simply 'Remus', though it's possible you've already heard my friends refer to me as 'Moony'..._

_At any rate, my deepest apologies for keeping you waiting all this time for a response to your thoughtful and considerate gesture. Or perhaps you had already forgotten all about this, and now I'm the one making even more a fool of myself… Even so, you deserve an apology for the delay in my response. Which is what this is. And the long answer for it may be a bit longer and more complex than I feel comfortable appropriate or necessary at our level of acquaintanceship; perhaps for now you'll simply accept I needed time to process and think?_

_Contrary to what my poems may suggest, I am the sort of man who thinks, rationalises, lists out possible outcomes, weighs in relevant factors, and prefers to take time studying situations. However, I find there is also an undeniable and unsilencing part of myself that is always ready to take the proverbial plunge, and if you will, that's what I'm doing here._

_The poems are mine. I've never shared them with anyone else before. I trust you'll understand the significance of what I've just revealed to you. Journaling was always a means of escape, release, and sorting through my bottled-up emotional quagmire. It's only turned into poetry in the past five years or so._

_Focusing now on the information you so graciously bestowed upon me, I have questions. Honestly, I have many questions. First, there's this thing Sirius took upon himself to mention about your NOT being related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, but you can save that story for another time. Second, I want to know all about Beauxbatons. From what I've seen of France, their politics regarding Beasts and Magical Beings differs greatly with ours. They also seem to have done a better job in incorporating Muggle-borns into their society. Well, there will always been societal snobs, but the vast majority of wizarding France is more readily welcoming and available in assisting Muggle-borns in their transitional period once starting school. I've heard Beauxbatons has a mandatory French cultural and wizarding class that all first through third years are required to take. If that's true, I think that's genius, and quite frankly, Hogwarts could take a lesson from that._

_A final admission about myself before I conclude my lunch break: I was terrified to attend Hogwarts. Although I'm a half-blood, I was worried I'd never received my Hogwarts letter. It was the happiest and scariest day of my life when I received my acceptance letter; partially terrifying because I was schooled at home until that time, and I'd never before made any true friends. My fellow first years, housemates, and new roommates, James, Sirius, and Peter all quickly invaded my life, and taught me the meaning of the word family. Lily Evans, now Lily Potter, was also a fellow first year and Gryffindor and she was the embodiment of empathy and compassion. If you find yourself missing your friends from your year and school, please know you could not have stumbled upon a more loving and loyal, albeit strange and stubborn, niche._

_Have a brilliant day, if you're reading this at all,_

_Remus_

His wolf was happily wagging his metaphorical tail, yipping, and jumping in large summersaults across his mind. Remus thought it was best to remain guarded. There was a chance she would not continue reading or communicating. He _did_ labour a while over this answer for a while before finally deciding on everything to say… What to disclose and the best means of wording it…

Moony had never been particularly interested in anyone at Hogwarts, not for long at least. His fancies would come and go, entirely dependent on the stage of the lunar cycle and how one witch smelled or something she said. The wolf was a paradoxical concoction of picky simplicity when it came to witches and just wanted to be accepted.

Remus wanted safety. For himself. For his wolf. For his pack. For anyone else involved… And it had probably best all around if there hadn't been anyone close enough to be massively involved.

" _No. Waiting for mate."_

He loosed a heavy sigh into the stale, flowery atmosphere of his work room, closing the notebook before returning it to his bag. "I don't care what Padfoot wrote."

" _You should."_

"It's irrelevant if she doesn't believe in mates."

" _We show her."_

"It doesn't just work like that!"

Moony snapped his jaw, defiant. " _It could."_

"I don't want that!" His declaration clanged across the otherwise empty room, his fingers balling into a fist. He sucked a sharp breath, clearing his throat. "I want it to be real. I want to know it's going to last, because my mate, if that's what she truly is, _wants_ to be with me. Mum and Dad had their issues because of me, and I refuse to put someone through the strain of all of this because of mere compulsion. The foundation has to be there, old boy." He uttered the last two words as soft as a prayer. "Please let me go about this the way I choose. Too many other factors are already predetermined because of you, Moony. Please. Let me have this."

His only response was a rapid whimper and whine, followed by an afternoon of uninterrupted silence.

* * *

Hermione's heart was beaming, because she apparently was a silly romantic about this, whatever _this_ was, and it made her incandescently happy that Remus hoped she was having a "brilliant day." Not only that, but he had written. He'd written and asked questions. He'd asked questions and shared thoughts, and shared more about himself.

Her mystery poet _wasn't_ irrevocably mad at her—and actually seemed quite pleased to continue corresponding with her.

Well then…

A quick cuppa afternoon Earl Grey with one lump of sugar later and Hermione was ready to respond like a rational adult.

_Remus,_

_I'm just Hermione, no need for any formalities with me. Regarding Hector Dagworth-Granger, your Professor Slughorn was quite insistent there ought to be a family connection somewhere in my family history, showing his backward, prejudiced colours and Mum and Dad researched for another magical education options. Regarding the French perception on magical beasts and beings, well, it is different, but I'm not sure it's any better than Britain's… It's actually the Department of Magical Beasts and Beings that I'm working for here. It's truly disheartening to see that all of Mr. Scamander's efforts have seemingly only lead to mountains of bureaucratic paperwork._

_And suppose we just leave it there for the time being. Regarding my incorporation and assimilation into wizarding society and culture on the whole, yes. I do feel a great deal more care and thought went into things at Beauxbatons, though I know nothing of how things work at Hogwarts. Perhaps that's something we can discuss sometime._

_It seems we were both fortunate to have found friends close enough to consider family. The majority of my closest friends were two and three years older than me, and they've all begun to marry and have become involved with their children. I don't begrudge them moving on with their lives, but it was time for me to move on with mine. Which is what I am doing in moving back to Britain._

_Sirius keeps relatively to himself, and seems a decent enough sort. He's asked the Potter family over for dinner Thursday in lieu of my picking up take-out, and invited me to join them. I had considered excusing myself to give them some friend time to catch up, as I know all too well how a baby can change the dynamics of a friend group, but considering what you've said about everyone, perhaps I'll accept now. Is there anything in particular I could offer to contribute? I'm a poor excuse of a cook, but does Lily have a favourite dessert from the bakery? Or is there a wine anyone especially favours?_

_Hoping you had a pleasant day as well._

_Hermione_

* * *

It was pandemonium when Remus got home that night. Moony was barking, yapping, howling, and strutting around like a dog at a show. And with the primal sense of victorious pride coursing through Remus' veins, for as much as he fought to contain himself, one would surmise Moony considered Hermione's response quite the triumph.

Perhaps Remus did too.

Perhaps it was everything to him that this unknown witch had read his heart, and found something compelling there. Something worth pursuing enough to correspond for another twenty-four hours. Perhaps he hadn't stopped chewing over the word 'mate' since Sirius had written it, like it was an everlasting piece of candy—sweet, desirable, perfect in every way.

Perhaps Moony wasn't too far off from the truth of the situation, but _he_ wanted to make that call. Remus.

For himself.

"One last response for the night, Moony," he sighed, reaching for his quill. "Then we need to go to bed. I've already told Sirius this is nothing. It bloody well cannot turn into an all-consuming _thing_."

* * *

Three weeks later, and Hermione and this two-way notebook had taken over his entire existence.

Moony had been gloating in the silence. Fucking _gloating_. Remus could feel every smirk and toothy grin the moment Remus would check the journal to find Hermione had responded to him, answering every last one of his questions, peppering him with plenty of her own.

Remus had all but flipped caution the bird after his message telling Hermione that Lily loved treacle tart best and Hermione responded that she would go to her favourite Muggle bakery to find the very best within her budget—he and Moony shared a fierce sense of loyalty. Anyone going out of their way to be kind to his friends, his pack, received automatic bonus points… Not that Remus was keeping track...

Which was very much _not_ the case with the matter regarding the frequency of his message exchanges with Hermione—he justified keeping track of these numbers as a means of quantifying and gauging just how enthusiastic Hermione seemed to be in communicating with him, _thank you very much._

To break the specifics down, their correspondence rate ranged anywhere from three to five lengthy message exchanges over the course of a weekday, and four to seven occurrences over the weekend, not including the weekend before last, when it had been a full moon.

Sirius and James made plans to spend it with him again that month, and their visit was the prefacing reason for his absence he gave Hermione a few days leading up to his transformation. Hermione had responded with all the gracious understanding that had Moony humming in approval to himself, and Remus almost joyous to find yet another trait to admire about this witch.

The week following his transformation, however, had become near impossible to bear, and all because Sirius had to bring bloody photographs taken from that informal dinner Hermione had asked him about. Photographs. Sodding _photographs_.

Moony remained silent no longer. He was an uncontainable and uncontrollable force of nature, brimming with excited energy as Remus studied the pictures:

Her eyes: " _Brown like chocolate_. _We like chocolate._ " Her hair: " _Curly. Thick. Easy to hold when she's underneath. Or on top."_ Her petite form: " _Fit. Small. Protect with ease."_ Her noticeable curves: " _Perfect and mine. Mine. Mine. Mine."_ And for one of the few times in his life, Remus had no reason to disagree with his wolf.

Hermione's eyes sparkled as she played with Harry. Moony focused on the brown, but Remus caught the dazzling flecks of gold. In one photo, she must have been swaying to a song of sorts with Harry on her hips, and he was lost for a solid five minutes to their hypnotic rhythm. She and Lily had been caught laughing at something in the third picture, and Remus loved how comfortable enough she already was with his friends to freely surrender herself to the laugh—throwing her head back, her thick, riotous curls tumbling down her back… Curls that looked so grabable and holdable, and thick enough to bury his hands in…

And in the midst of all of this, it didn't help his cause of keeping Hermione confined to the box of 'nothing' when Sirius took it upon himself to fucking suprise Moony with a cardigan of Hermione's that he'd nicked from the dirty laundry bin.

Moony had pounced, breathing deep before curling up and burying his nose in the heavenly piece of wool, committing every detail of her scent to memory. Sirius hadn't done her scent justice when he described it before; Hermione smelled of earthen grass, rain, parchment, leather, and _two_ separate blends of tea. Not just the perfect cuppa Earl Grey, but a rich brew of English Breakfast, too...

_Shite._

He'd not even met the witch in person and this was already a lost cause.

* * *

Hermione danced her quill delicately over the notebook. _The notebook._ This forever life-altering notebook.

Remus filled her days. If she wasn't reading his latest message for the first or second time, she was beaming, giggling, or possibly even blushing over the latest message as she read it for the third or fourth time. And then there was the writing of her own responses, followed by the inevitable worrying over what she'd said and how she'd said it.

They never brought the poems back up after their initial address, and Hermione had her own theories as to why, but she'd kept herself from flipping back through and giving any of the beautiful words a deeper glance. That somehow felt a deeper invasion of privacy in light of… well, she couldn't be sure. But this _felt_ as more than what Nan had called a pie-crust fancy: easily made, easily broken.

They'd shared so much in this short span of time and he was… _Remus was_ … Well. Whatever all this was, it was impossible to precisely define still. But she swore she would every so often catch this deeper sense of longing in his things he would write… And her soul longed to answer with her own desire to belong.

"Well, let the exquisite torturous process begin again." Biting down on the inside of her cheek she grasped her quill and brought it down to the page.

_Hello to you, Remus. It's a rainy, rainy,_ _ rainy _ _day here. You told me Sirius gave you pictures from the dinner, so you've seen the bane of my existence: my hair. The rain does crazy things to curls. In the summer, the humidity makes them frizz, tangle, and bunch together; however, with today's frigid rain, they droop sloppily and refuse to stay put in buns or plaits, so I foresee a day of mass frustration ahead._

_I hope yours is lovelier._

Hermione scoffed aloud at such a cheesy line, but didn't cross it out in favour of anything better. It was true, after all…

… _I hope no slumbering flowering trees about the city haven't begun a freak early budding. I had to visit the London zoo today as there'd been some reports of some highly suspicious monkey activity and I was tasked with determining if it was a spell or an unregistered Animagus. Turns out to have been a case of accidental magic from a family's visit earlier that week. The mother came to our offices this evening concerned that her son may have upset several geese in the petting zoo area, so one of my co-workers was immediately dispatched there to handle it while I helped the witch fill out some redundant form._

_I enjoy my division and feel there's a great deal of good to be done here, but I find I loathe the bureaucracy of it all… And it seems to me a vast amount of time and energy is wasted on efforts like control and containment, rather than truly understanding the nature of the creature, or magical being._

_I know you talk of redundancy in your job; what would you rather do instead?_

...She stayed her hand before writing her automatic next thought. They'd been personal and honest thus far, at least she had, and she believed him to be honest in everything he'd said…

"Just say it," she muttered to herself, forcing the quill to move again…

... _At the risk of bringing up my shame and embarrassment from how our paths first crossed, I think you'd make a brilliant author. Or researcher—given how meticulous and thorough you can be in the stories you've shared._

_I hope I didn't say anything to offend. It's just something I've observed. Wouldn't it be lovely if we could one day find the means and method to pursue our passions to our hearts content?_

* * *

" _She likes us!"_ Moony howled with glee. He bounded and barked all over Remus' mind, and the wizard had no means of differentiating between the wolf's joy and his own fiery rush of feelings over the witch's words. He delicately traced over her last paragraph over and over and over again, until they'd been seared into his memory.

Of course, she hadn't meant they should pursue their passions in life together…

" _She will."_ Moony leaped in a backwards somersault, like the confident pup he was.

"You don't—"

" _I do."_ Moony snipped at Remus' doubts, before running his tongue over his teeth. " _Hermione is mate. Mate likes us. Write her._ "

Throat dry, heart pounding so hard, he'd no idea how his hand wasn't shaking, Remus summoned his quill, thinking he wished the wolf would settle enough for him to have a strong cuppa…

_We all talked as a group once in seventh year how we wanted our lives to play out after school, and I suppose I was the only one who settled early on that stability was more valuable to me that dreams or fantasies. Because that's what my father taught me. That's the example he gave, and though I wouldn't say life has turned out as he'd hoped or expected, and there were material possessions I never knew people had or cared about until attending Hogwarts, our home never lacked for food on the table, warmth in the winter, shelter in the summer and rain, and hearts who loved._

_But since you've seen my heart bear and open, you've read my poetic confessions… I suppose if I could, I'd wish to be a teacher of sorts. Not necessarily a professor at Hogwarts. I enjoy youths, their passion, energy, and drive. It gives me great pleasure coming alongside someone and helping them grasp a concept and make it their own. Make it applicable and relevant to their lives._

_However, I'm not the greatest fan in the world of rooms of people, and there are also outside challenges that make it difficult for me to work according to a strict schedule. I require a varying degree of flexibility for my health… and the Ministry has been very gracious in my needs. But perhaps, we can enjoy these dreams together for the time being._

TAP! TAP! TAP!

He jerked up to see Sirius' owl outside his window, flapping furiously, a brown paper package in his taloned grip. Moony yipped and barked, bursting at the thought of a present, demanding it be opened immediately, but Remus took the time to coo and fuss over Sirius' great grey owl, offering it several treats before turning his attention to the simple package—if the pretentious bird ever felt slighted, he could make one suffer a great deal… Remus knew this from first-hand experience.

When the bird had gone, and Remus tore at the string, shoving it off the parcel, and using a slicing spell to cut through the paper. He tipped the package, mind and Moony abuzz with anticipation…

A notebook fell out of the packet. A plastic sealed notebook, with a sticker on it from a Muggle store. And there was a note floating from the package, a delicate slip of parchment he snatched at, catching it before it could skim the top of the present.

_Hello Remus,_

_I hope you won't mind, but I took the liberty of purchasing you a new diary to replace the one our messages have now commandeered. And I thought, given the circumstances of our coming together, you deserved to see that this is truly your very own book, untampered and unaltered by magic. Should you ever have a poem you'd like to share with me again, I'd be honoured. But I leave that choice in your gracious hands._

_Hermione_

And for the very first time in his conscious memory, Moony had absolutely no response—the wolf was shaken to his core. Never in a lifetime had he imagined he'd be worthy of such a mate. Never had ever been so afraid of losing something that wasn't even his.

When he came to himself at last, he finished his letter with more intent than he ever remembered putting into anything before:

_I've just received your package and I believe this may be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me—and I'm including a very special homemade Christmas present Lily gave me our fifth year. Though this could hardly count as a token of gratitude, I'll be posting something of yours first thing in the morning. Sirius brought is of your cardigans with him to France and left it here. I'm having it laundered and will send it off to you in the morning._

He swallowed thickly, feeling every part of Moony's mournful whine in his marrow. "It's the only way, old boy. It's likely she'll have put the pieces together already, but we can't keep what isn't ours in the first place… Best to see if it'll be given freely…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy binge reading, Frumpologist!!! <3 I hope you enjoy  
> For everyone who's read this and left lovely kudos and comments. Thank you so much. It means the world to me.  
> Alpha and beta love to LadyKenz347 and CourtingInsanity. You ladies are just exquisite.  
> All remaining errors are my own. 
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Days bled into weeks, until nearly another month had passed.

Which mean almost a whole month of other packages. Smaller packages, yet no less meaningful or personal.

There was the week that Remus offhandedly mentioned he'd be working on Saturday, and Hermione obtained a portkey to Remus' office at the French Ministry for a package delivery. She visited the Potter home on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights that week, practicing and perfecting Lily's beef wellington recipe until Saturday she was brave enough to send her latest attempt directly to Remus for lunch via the portkey. She'd sent along some roasted carrots and potatoes as a side dish.

He'd Floo called her that night to thank her in person, and sent her a bouquet of quills and parchment the next day (his accompanying message said he thought she'd appreciate the sentiment more with something practical over flowers, and she let him think she believed that).

Such beautiful, lazy, blissful days, until the week before the full moon, and her bubble of joy and ignorance was burst without any warning. Her superior marched into her office without knocking at the end of a five-message day, handing her a list of names declaring this was a new assignment. "We've been impressed with your dedication and skill-set, Miss Granger. I trust you'll give this monthly task your utmost care and follow-through."

"Of course, sir." Hermione nodded, blinking over the list. "Thank you, sir. I'm most honoured to be given such a useful responsibility."

The wizard grunted as he exited the office, leaving Hermione alone.

Alone with a list of names, a pounding heart, and a pair of lungs that couldn't seem to remember how to properly function.

_Buggering shite._

* * *

Hermione had worried her tongue and the inside of her cheek all morning, waiting until noon, which was a justifiable hour of the day to begin chewing her way through an entire pack of sugar quills.

James and Sirius had both taken today and tomorrow off work to visit Remus. James had asked if Hermione wouldn't mind staying the night with Lily and Harry—Harry was teething or something again and he'd wanted Lily to have extra support for the night… There had been a suspicious glint in James' hazel eyes when he'd asked Hermione; a gleam that seemed to suggest he knew _things_. Which was entirely possible, but then again… That could just be wishful thinking.

"Merlin, Godric, and all the Founders." Lily exhaled an exhausted breath as she padded up the hall from Harry's room.

Hermione offered her a tight smile. "Asleep at last?" she queried.

"Mhm." Lily sank into her worn and loved armchair, dragging a hand through her hair. "'Suppose I'll see how long that'll last tonight. This was really sweet of you to agree," she said, blinking sleepily in Hermione's direction. "If it gets to be too much, just throw up a silencing charm over the guest room and you should be fine."

"All right." Hermione was going to worry the inside of her mouth to death if she didn't speak out soon… Or twist a hole in her cardigan… Whichever came first. Summoning every reserve of courage she took the plunge: "I need to ask you something, Lily."

The witch had already settled back in her chair, nose parallel to the ceiling, eyes closed. "Sure." A single-syllable word has never sounded so sleepy before. _Damnit_ … "What's on your mind?"

"It's about Remus."

Lily gave an acknowledging hum, squirming and shifting until she was upright, emerald eyes boring into Hermione. "What about Remus?"

Hermione dropped her cardigan, laying her hands in her lap, palms up. "First off, I feel it's necessary to preface this by letting you know I did not go digging or searching for this information—"

" _Buuuutttt…?_ "

A breathy chuckle and half shrug. "My direct supervisor gave me a list of all the Ministry employees receiving Wolfsbane last week." Lily sucked a sharp breath while Hermione drummed her fingers over her leg, ready to confess it all by this point. "Which means that I'm in charge of sending daily potions via a Ministry owl with a prewritten Ministry letter to maintain as much privacy and confidentiality all around. I think it's only fair you know I'd already had suspicions, what with several of his writings I first stumbled upon, and some of the ways he'd talked about things in his childhood and school… And this is now the second month in a row he's been sick over a full moon..."

Silence hung between them in thick, hazy sheets. Lily appeared to be lost in thought, or silently fuming, or quietly contemplating how to kill Hermione and hide the body… None of which seemed out of the realm of possibility given the nature of what Hermione had revealed, considering the loyalty of this group, and, simply put, Hermione thought it best to leave Lily to decide what response she wanted to give, even if the suspense of it all manifested as a large lump in her throat that threatened to choke her any moment…

"You say you did no digging of your own?" Lily finally asked. "No extra searching through department records…?"

"None whatsoever." Hermione shook her head fiercely. "I would consider that an abuse of my position and a severe invasion of privacy." Inexplicable, but utterly justified, tears stung the corners of eyes and she sucked a shaky breath. "I'd gone back and forth about broaching this subject with you, but since you already know how Remus and I were introduced, and now that I know, Remus deserves to know that I know, which I absolutely _hate_ , because he should have had the option of telling me for himself, if he even wanted to—"

"He did." Lily's smile was a curious combination of sorrow and relief. "He does. I've heard enough to know he wanted to tell you, but now that you have this to tell him, are you worried about how he'll react?"

Hermione gave a thick swallow, nodding again. "I'm the one who found the notebook and set the test for what sort of enchantment was over it. I introduced myself first, and he probably only answered out of politeness at first. And now this…" She bit down on her bottom lip, tears flooding her eyes again. His career confession made perfect sense now. Of course he'd pick a low-level job with a flexible schedule, so long as it paid the monthly outrageous Wolfsbane fee... "I can only imagine all the choices he's had taken away from him because of his lycanthropy, Lily. I hate that this was one more decision stolen from him."

"Believe it or not," Lily started, canting her head and playing with the ends of her red hair, "I don't think he'll see it that way. I think he's going to go through his usual stages of fear of rejection, fear for your safety when you declare you're _not_ rejecting him, disbelief that you've decided to stick around, denial that he's worth any sort of loyalty, and finally the fear you'll only leave when you fully understand what a life including him truly looks like."

"Bloody hell." Hermione tugged at her curls, bringing them over a single shoulder. "What sort of time frame should I be prepared for with these stages?"

Lily smirked. "No more than five minutes. He's been through this often enough with the four of us. It's possible his wolf may hold out a little more with the self-preservation phases, what with Peter moving to America, his assignment away, Harry entering the picture and James not always being immediately available, and all. There've been a lot of life changes since school."

"Right. Okay…" A thought niggled the back of her mind, and she decided there was no harm in asking now. "James and Sirius visit to spend the full moon with him in their Animagus forms, don't they?"

Lily's head had already dropped back to the chair, her words slurring again as she said, "We'll leave that for Remus to disclose."

A smile tugged a Hermione's lips, a true one, and the first she'd felt all day.

* * *

Remus was tired, sore, and cranky. Everything hurt and Moony was furious Remus had returned the sweater, and that Padfoot had returned empty-handed this time. His first act as wolf was to attack Padfoot for such an offense.

His bed was soft, and Sirius was talking in that soft voice that said he'd already forgiven Moony's violent reaction. James left a plate of eggs and bacon on his bedside table before fluffing Remus' hair and saying goodbye.

He could live a thousand lifetimes, and he'd never deserve friends like these…

" _Mate…"_ Moony whimpered and sank down, folding himself into a ball. " _Want mate._ _Need mate._ "

Remus was too drained to disagree.

* * *

The world spun on its painful axis for the next thirty-six hours. Remus hated taking pain potions every time, and was trying desperately to push through this time. It'd been easier than it had been in a long time last month with Hermione's cardigan to bury his torments and face in…

He would have to find solace in whatever words she'd written in his absence… _If_ she'd written anything at all…

He wasn't disappointed. A few missives telling him some humorous Harry stories and something about Lily's lemon tarts… Until he came to the last one, and he thought his heart had stopped beating entirely.

_Remus,_

_I know you'll be working Saturday to make up hours while you were unwell, but I was hoping you would spare a few hours in the evening to have dinner with me. There's a place I know of in Paris that I have a feeling you'll like, although you've probably been there many times before by now._

_Let me know and I'll make arrangements with the portkey and restaurant._

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

Moony pounced over every aspect of the letter and had surrounded himself by impenetrable wards of happiness, love, mirth, and loud, happy barks. It would do Remus no good to even try getting through to his wolf anytime soon, so he acted on the only instinct he could at this point.

He responded, accepting her offer.

* * *

He was _so_ handsome…! Which, of course, Hermione had already known through photographs of Sirius' and the Potter home, but being faced with his full green eyes, tousled brown hair, and perfectly chiselled features in person was… something _completely_ different.

And it had nothing to do with the fact her head was still swirling and scrambling in the aftermath of portkey, nor that Remus was standing so close, stance suggesting he was poised to steady her if needed.

"All right, then, Hermione?"

She nodded slowly, taking it all in. Her portkey had landed her directly outside his flat building. Paris smelled like it was ready to loose a slow and soft drizzle, which Hermione would not object to. At all. Because maybe Remus would cuddle her to his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, pulling her close enough to admire the deep forest-green shades of his eyes… Or determine if he truly did smell like her favourite ink, books, strong tea, and… mint toothpaste, or if that was all in her head…

Merlin, she could get lost in everything that was Remus already, and all she'd said was…

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, thrusting out her right hand, eyes wide, and cheeks aflame. "Yes, _yes_ , I'm fine. Travelling by portkey is always a little disorienting, but never better." Shut up, shut up, shut _up_ … She bit down on her lip to keep from nattering like an idiot as Remus took her proffered hand. "I'm so pleased you were able to take the time away this evening. It's wonderful to finally meet you in person, Remus."

"The pleasure's all mine," he answered. His voice… Sweet Circe, his voice was a warm day at the seaside, gentle waves lapping the shore, inviting and promising. "I confess you're more courageous than I have been; it's been on my mind to come home for weeks, if only for a late afternoon cuppa after work." His smile was the sun and moon—golden, yet luminous and alluring. "Are you hungry?"

Her answering smile was tight, and she hated how forced it felt. How he could _see_ how forced it felt. His grip loosened, but he didn't drop her hand. She didn't want him to. Couldn't bear the thought of losing a hold on him as she broke the horrible news she'd come for.

"Actually, d'you think we could sit on that bench a moment?" She adjusted her hand to slip her fingers through the gaps between his, holding tight. "Before we eat, before anything else, you have the right to know something, and then decide if you still want to have that dinner."

"Okay…" He stiffened, shoulders squaring back as they made awkward work of distance to the bench, and sat down like the two complete strangers they were, and yet weren't. She was familiar enough with his thoughts, emotions, past, present, and dreams to _feel_ every wave of tension and fear crashing against him. Was he fighting to keep his wolf calm, as well?

She squeezed his fingers, licking her lips, and offering a half smile again, desperate to provide a small measure of comfort before… "Look. There's no easy way to tell you this, and I'm so very sorry that my job put me in this position but... I know."

"You… know…?" Green eyes blinked once. Twice.

"Yes." She gave a slow nod, squeezing his fingers once more. "I know, Remus."

"Ah. You _know_."

There was something in the inflection of his voice, and she could cry. She could just _cry…_ "I'm so sorry. So very sorry. It wasn't anything I sought to find out on my own; I know information like that is something incredibly personal, and you have the right to tell whomever, whenever—"

"But I fall under your department being a magical beast." His voice was soft, so soft. She invaded his life and privacy so thoroughly and didn't deserve such gentleness. "That's understandable, and just the nature of it all, Hermione. I had suspected you'd already known for a while, but couldn't bring myself to ask… I've never been the shining example of Gryffindor courage, if you must know." He shifted closer to her on the bench, leaning into her space, smile wry and an attempt at humorous.

She managed a chuckle that was little more than a puff of air, heart heavy still. "I keep receiving new responsibilities and tasks, and while I'd already had some suspicions leaning in the direction of lycanthropy—" she scooted nearer, too, touching her knee to his "—it was your decision to tell me what you wanted when you wanted to… _if_ you ever wanted, that is..."

Her lip trembled, stopping her short, and so he prompted, "...but?"

"But my supervisor liked my work enough to delegate another responsibility; distributing the monthly Ministry employee Wolfsbane supply."

"Ah."

So much understanding in an acknowledging sound, and how was it possible for her heart to feel so many things over someone she'd only known for such a short while?

Remus cleared his throat, his smile small, but sincere. "I suppose there we have it then, Hermione Granger. The only thing left to do is make a proper introduction…" He lifted their hands, bringing hers to his lips, kissing it as though it were something of great worth, and not just mere flesh, tendon, muscle, and bone. "I'm Remus John Lupin, werewolf, Hogwarts graduate, and former-Gryffindor. The wolf is called 'Moony', but he's been around for so long, I answer to that nickname as well. It's a pleasure to, at last, put a face to the witch who has brought such joy to my life these past couple of months."

Merlin help her… She was floating. She was flying. Her heart was going to beat right out of her chest... "Do you believe in soulmates?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she could just _die_ from embarrassment. He'd cast a spell over her with the chivalrous gesture, it was the only logical explanation…

But she was lying to herself. She knew she was. She'd wanted to see Remus in person for more than the previous confession.

His expression had morphed into something almost… _smug_. "I believe in a great many things outside the realm of conventional logic, Hermione."

"Oh, shut it," she huffed, bumping her foot into his while pressing her knee deeper to his. "I came to say more than that, and I guess now's just as good a time as any. I know that it should be impossible for the only child of two dentists to have such romantic notions, but ours was a home where science and logic coexisted with fate and faith. Otherwise, I don't think Mum and Dad would have searched so thoroughly for answers to my magic and other schooling options. Ironically, it was my magical education that tried to convince me to move beyond a reductionist mentality of faith and trust, but then I'd always go home to my parents over holiday. I'd see their love, companionship, and unfailing support of each other. And I just knew..."

She trailed off, unable to meet him in the eye anymore.

"Knew what?"

A hard swallow that scraped down her throat and could quench the burning in her chest. But she'd come this far; might as well summon some of that infamous Gryffindor recklessness she'd no doubt absorbed after months surrounded by Gryffindors… "I knew I'd find that special someone someday. I just wasn't expecting him to be so utterly perfect for me in every way."

He didn't answer with words, but she felt his every thought in the way he kissed her hand again. In the way he rose from the bench, tugging her along with him. In the way he murmured into her hair, asking her to lead the way to dinner. In the way he dropped a kiss, adding that he was so happy she was here.

* * *

He couldn't let go of her hand. Of course he'd had to drop it when they'd slid across from each other and ordered dinner and a pint off of short menus, but now that the waitress had gone and their food hadn't yet arrived, he was as a niffler to something shiny—needing to touch it, hold it, possess it completely. "How'd you know about this place?" he asked, thankful his voice was still functioning. "I've been living here for months and had no idea there was a British pub within walking distance of my flat in Paris."

"I've been here before," she said, lifting a shoulder in what could have been a dismissive shrug. "After knowing your address and studying a map or two, I found you didn't live far from here, and thought it'd be a nice walk for us."

Remus verbally agreed, tracing her thumb with his, while Moony yipped she hadn't answered the question… And Remus was utterly _mortified_ to discover he'd said precisely that out loud…

But Hermione only giggled, and tucked a curl behind her ear. "No, I suppose I didn't. I didn't want Moony to be upset I'd brought him to the site a former boyfriend brought me to once."

"Ah. I see, then." Remus kept his cool, even as Moony hissed and growled, declaring he'd tear the unknown, faceless wizard limb from limb. He forced his eyes to stay on Hermione, anything to give Moony something to focus on… "How long ago was this?"

"Years ago, now." Aaaaaand she was chuckling now. Chuckling and flashing a wink. "Seventh years have freedom to leave campus for the whole day, if the request is put in and approved in advance. Someone in my class I'd sort of fancied for a little while thought this place would be a good idea for a date. And it _was_ , for me, at least. It was home and comforting, and it'd just been such a long and hard term preparing for all the exams and this little place was heaven to me."

Remus chewed his tongue, considering her answer. "I gather it hardly had the same effect on your companion?"

"Not at all—thank you, ma'am." She was laughing and thanking their server, who set down generous portions of Shepherd's pie for Hermione, a steak and kidney pie for Remus, and a platter of chips for them to share. "He couldn't stop sneering at his plate, which led to heated discussions over a great many things we disagreed on, and the spell was broken after that."

They laughed and tucked in together, sharing bites from each other's plates, falling into easy conversation of home, tea, books and friends.

"So, about Sirius and James…" She bit her lip, a crooked smile forming on her face.

"You mean with regards to their unregistered Animagus status? I promise y—"

"I'm not an Auror," Hermione cut-in. "Sorry, I have this bad habit of answering questions before someone finishes asking, and I do try to work on it, I promise—" (She could interrupt him forever, for all Remus and Moony cared. As long as her eyes always smiled in that perfect, secretive way, only for _him…_ ) "—my point is that I've no reason to report anything to anyone. They can take their time registering, and the form is quite vague on the specifics of timing with learning. I can assist with filling it out when the time comes."

"Ah. Good. Very good then."

The witch, _his witch_ Moony corrected, shrugged. "It's a bit silly to me. Animagus transfiguration training was offered as a seventh year extra credit course at Beauxbatons. We registered our form at the end of the course and that was turned into the French Ministry. And if one wanted to learn later in life, it's a simple matter of taking a course through the Ministry."

"And…" Remus's voice caught, his mouth dry as though suddenly full of sand (and he'd woken to a mouthful of sand on many occasions thanks to Moony.) It was almost too much to hope… to consider this vision, this _person_ , had the means to see him fully, and not be injured. "What form do you take?"

"A sparrow." She beamed at him now, laying down her fork, and dabbing her lips with her napkin. Her eyes were glistening in the low golden-yellow light of pub. "I've been told I'm a fast flier, and prone to chirping too much when I'm hungry, but otherwise…"

Remus reached for her hand again. "It's perfect." Moony was fucking purring through his voice, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. "They're a symbol of love, joy, production, and productivity—all very appropriate words when describing you."

Her breath hitched and Moony's grin turned to something feral and indecent, especially considering this was only the first date. But there was no stopping him from howling that victorious howl when Hermione asked if he'd like to "get out of here."

"Sure, but I don't think my place is a good idea right now," he answered, winking at Hermione's inquisitive look. "Moony has many ideas of things to try to have you feeling has happy as he is right now, and, frankly, I agree with him in part, but I'd like to take things a little slower than he would." He swallowed hard, running his thumb over Hermione's. "If that's all right with you, that is."

"There's no need to rush anything, Remus." She held his hand firmly as she slid from her side of the booth, tugging him to follow her to the bar to settle up. "How about we find bookshop instead, hmm?" He opened his mouth, thinking of a few places to suggest, when she lifted herself to the tips of her toes and pulled his ear down to hers. "Maybe one with few patrons and a dark corner where you and Moony can snog me breathless against a bookshelf…"

Oh. Sweet. Merlin. Moony would cause him to have a heart attack from over-excitement right here and now.

But Hermione didn't stop there; she huffed a warm breath in his ear, tightening her grip, while saying murmuring, "Just in case, you know, Moony needs any help making up his mind about his mate…"

"Fuck, woman." Remus gasped, curling a hand over Hermione's hip, bringing her to him, or maybe it was him to her, but either way, he had no memory how exactly they exited the pub. He didn't even care right now how she'd made the mate connection with Moony, though he was pretty sure Sirius and her stolen cardigan had a great deal to with it...

All that mattered next was pressing Hermione against a white plaster wall in a darkened alley, claiming her mouth with his as she giggled, fucking giggled, as he kissed her again and again.

Until her giggles turned to pleasured hums. Then to those to sighs. And her sighs to moans…

And until some-bloody-one decided to ruin the moment by crooning _La Vie En Rose_ … And he had the distinct issue of Moony growling, possibly ready to pounce and attack for interrupting such a perfect moment.

Hermione, however, soothed the wolf with another one of those euphonious giggles, arched into Remus and brought him even closer. "How is Moony with Apparition?"

Godric, her voice was sultry and husky and he needed to create space before he found himself in a very obvious, very _hard_ , situation… He drew a rasping breath. "As long as he has warning, he's fine."

"Okay." She traced her second hand up his neck, sinking it in his hair, making slow massaging motions near his ears that had him wanting to melt into her. "Here's the plan then." He peeked at her through a half-raised eyelid; there was a _plan_? Outside of death by head massage from Hermione Granger? She continued, "I know of a bookstore in wizarding Paris still open. We're going there first to browse. And maybe continue what just happened here, or maybe not. No pressure for either of us. After I've made a purchase at the bookshop, we're going to wander the streets of Paris holding hands until we find a coffee shop or my Portkey activates."

Portkey. She would be leaving him after tonight. Bugger everything, but he whimpered out-fucking-loud at the thought of her leaving, and buried his nose in her neck, kissing her warm, soft skin slowly. "And then?" he whispered, nipping at the base of her neck before laving it with his tongue and kissing his way back up.

"And then… _Merlin_ , that's a lovely spot right there…" He hummed against her jaw, sucking and kissing, and altogether pleased with the fact his witch couldn't put together a string of words for another several moments. "And then," she tried again, drawing his face to hers, nuzzling their noses together. "And then you're going to tell me sometime this week if you can take the next weekend to come to Britain. The moon will still be two weeks out, and you could see everyone."

"Sounds nice." A kiss to her brow, then her curls. "And after?"

She smiled against his lips, dropping her arms to wind around his chest "And after you can either come back here. Or maybe we could chip in on a hotel room, where we can take things as we choose. Mates or not, we'll have the time to figure it out, but that doesn't have to change anything. I chose to come to France. You chose to accept the dinner. I'm not asking anything of you I'm not yet ready to give myself, and you have the choice to ask to wait."

_Mate. Choice. Ask. Give._

Never had such monosyllabic words sounded so completely perfect, so utterly cherishing. " _Love her,"_ Moony sighed over his brain, and Remus didn't disagree, but he found the strength to keep from immediately blurting out such a declaration.

He adjusted his arms to wrap around her shoulders, under her hair, bringing her close. "Sounds like just the plan, love. Lead on." Man and wolf hummed contentedly into Hermione's curls surrendering to the tug of Apparition, and the scent of tea, the forest, rain, and everything wholesome and hopeful.

Fate had thrown them together, but everything that followed, everything that was to come, it was a choice. And Remus chose Hermione.


End file.
